The Rest of Us Just Live Here
by freeangels43
Summary: Family isn't always what you're born with- it's what you make it. Carl is being nice to Kimmy again after years of icing her out following his mother's death. Kimmy is glad to have her adopted brother back, but soon becomes confused about what she really feels for him. Also the group takes a hostage. (Click for full summary)
1. Chapter 1

**Red String of Fate**

I used to believe in God.

I used to believe in a lot of things, like Santa Clause and the tooth fairy and all things good. Now I believe in my sword. I believe in my automatic weapon, and I believe firmly that everyone, no matter how good they may try to be, _everyone_ has bad in them. Everyone.

To some this philosophy may come off as pessimistic, it's not. It's realistic. Especially in the world I live in now. It's how I've stayed alive this long, and it's how I continue to live so that I can protect the ones I love. Before, when the world was relatively fine, you could put all of your faith into an invisible and omnipresent God in hopes that he/she/it would protect you. It didn't take me that long realize how stupid that was, but I was surprised at how many people held on to that BS even _after_ their proposed "savior" brought an end to the world as we knew it. Even after he mass murdered our families, only to resurrect them and have them kill us or make us put them down again ourselves. Even after all that, there's always an excuse. I lost my family young, long before all of this happened. They were murdered, taken from me. I lost all my faith after that, the way one loses touch with an old friend after a betrayal. My mother believed in God, but that wasn't enough to save her. It was never enough to save anyone.

I slice my wooden staff through the air with sharp precision, the way I would a sword. The way I would if I were in danger, which I usually am. As I swing the stick I move my feet in a dance in order to keep balance, still as I thrust my staff once more I am disappointed with my performance. I can do better, I _know_ I can. I hold the weapon at rest in both hands, pondering the proper motivation to improve. Then it hits me: imagine Carl is in danger and not myself.

I bend my knees at the right angle, holding my sword at a perfect slant. And I remember Terminus, the walkers, they lunge toward us persistently, ignoring every bullet to the arm, leg, and gut as if they were no more damaging than mosquito bites. There's so many, for every one walker down there are at least three more to take its place. Not a problem for me. I swing at one in front of me taking its head clean off, then slice upwards splitting it in half like meat. Then I spin and kick the one behind me, quickly offing its temple sparing the extra overkillings. I double kick a female one with half a face and glasses that gets too close, knocking her back and then cut her into an X at light speed. Sometimes you don't have to kill them, dismantling is enough. But I've made a mistake, I didn't pay enough attention and it's too late. I twist around as fast as possible but have no time to make a move, before I can think there's a disintegrated face hissing towards me with the prevalent intentions of murder-

"Mornin', Kimmy."

I trip and fall back, shocked by the familiar voice. I'm suddenly back to normal times, and I'm staring up, flustered, at the only boy who could make me so discoordinated. Carl sits on the large front porch of our house in Alexandria. He's smiling at me kindly with his hat in its rightful place, covering his over-grown brown hair and shading his freckled face and green eyes from the merciless sun.

"Jesus Carl." I say through heaved breaths out of habit. "I didn't know you were up, yet. How long have you been sitting there."

"A while." He says, still smiling in a way that forbids my heartbeat to slow.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I try not to stutter, nervously gripping my staff as I stand.

He shrugs. "You were sparring, I didn't wanna interrupt. Besides," his smile gets wider and he rests his chin on his knee. "I like watching you practice."

He looks so darn cute it makes me withdraw a sharp breath as the sweat builds on my palms. I don't want to think the thought that comes next, but it crosses my mind anyway.

 _Is he…flirting with me?_

I straighten my stance, placing my staff firmly on the ground, lifting my chin resentfully and frown.

"Well don't do it again, alright? Damn near gave me a heart attack." I scold making my way towards the open door. Carl throws up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, you're the boss." He concedes sincerely and stands when he notices my direction. I bump him playfully when I reach his side and he pushes back. We continue to fight into the living room, laughter bubbling in my stomach the way only he can make happen. There aren't very many opportunities to laugh these days, let alone smile. I try to plant a slap on his abdomen but he jukes back swiftly and I miss. He laughs at my failure and I continue to kick and hit the air as he runs away towards the kitchen.

"Come on, Kimmy Kat when are you gonna learn? You're never gonna beat me in that game." He taunts haughtily, taking a bite of an apple from the bowl on the counter.

"Is that so?" I ask, plopping on our blue couch next to the window. "Oh, because you're so intellectually and physically superior to me, is that why?" I retort condescendingly.

"Well, those aren't _my_ words, buuut-"

"Buuut," I cut off his arrogantly lame proclamation to profess my own, "I bet I could beat you in any challenge you put on the table- physical or intellectual."

"In your dreams." He scoffs.

"Oh you'll be dreamin' all right." I say confidently, my southern accent slipping back into my tone. "When you receive this superior ass-whoopin' you won't _believe_ that it's real life."

A laugh erupts from his gut as if he didn't expect it. That makes me grin. Carl's become such a guarded and cynical person, it makes me glad that I can be one of the few people that can get under his skin and surprise him again. And make him happy, at that. It feels good to know that he's letting me in again, better than I could've even imagined. It takes me second to notice I'm biting my finger.

"Well, you seem pretty confident." He says, mockingly, moving towards the door, tossing his twice-bitten apple between both hands. Suddenly I feel really competitive and excited and I jump to my feet.

"I am. Let's go, right now. I'm ready."

He turns to me, suddenly his whole demeanor changes from playful and fun to sorry and something else.

"I can't now."

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat, "Why not?"

I'm pretty sure I know the answer but I ask anyway.

"I'm meeting Enid." He says her name so tenderly, it's like I can feel everything inside of me being crushed. Like I've fallen from Cloud 9 and everything shattered once I hit the ground. I try to breathe normally, though, and not let him see that I'm in pain.

 _Why are you doing this to me?_ I think, only it comes out "Oh." I flop back down on the couch again, stretching my jeaned legs in front of me and then letting them fall last.

"Hey, don't look so upset. I'd be happy to hand you your ass on a silver plate on a different day."

I try force to force a smile but it comes out tight and insincere.

"And Kim," I meet his eyes again, he's standing in the open doorway. He smiles again. "I'll be thinking about it."

My smile is a little bigger this time.

"You're not going beyond the gates are you?" I ask as he begins to close the door behind him. He freezes with his back to me.

"Of course not." He answers, and exits.

He's lying, I can always tell. But I find solace in the fact that when he's with her he'll be thinking of me, at least a little.

 _At least a little._


	2. Chapter 2

I suppose I should give a little background on my relationship with Carl and the rest of the group. In a way he's my brother. Adopted, of course. His father, Rick, took me in after I was abandoned in the police station the night my parents were killed.

I was seven years old, and I had never been so lonely. I just remember sitting in that office chair with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders which I knew they would take back once they got rid of me. My curly hair was wild, half straight and undone at the time (my mother had been straightening it for the first time when the man broke into our home. I didn't wanna ruin the straight part for a while because she did it and it was one of the last things she did.) I didn't care. At the moment, all I could picture in my head were the bloodied corpses of my parents- and the man who killed them. That was a fantasy of mine, to shower in the blood of the man who took my life away. My family. So I sat in that chair in a police station, plotting on how one day when I'm big enough, when I'm strong enough, when I'm old enough I would find the man, and I would kill him. I didn't know how, I just knew that I would. That kind of thinking was barbaric in those times, maybe even illegal. Today it's more or less the standard. But then, as a seven year old child that kind of thinking was unacceptable and wrong. Rick saw me then, he sat in the empty chair next to me. I ignored him, but mostly I was afraid that if I looked at him he'd know what I was thinking and get me in trouble. But that was wrong.

"Kimana." He said softly in a deep southern accent that was so alien to me at the time, it was one of the last times I'd heard my real name. "Listen, I know nothing makes sense now. I know you're angry and you probably want to see that man bleed, I get it. But make no mistake, if you let that hate grow in you, if you keep on movein' down that dark road then I promise you, all you'll ever know is hurt, nothing else. You'll hurt so many people, innocents, like what you are now, and you'll never heal." He pauses and I know he's looking at me now, but I only look down, still facing away. "You'll be just as bad as the man that…that did this to you."

He was right, I knew then that he was right and it made me so angry. It made me so ashamed to be thinking the way that I was, I didn't want to think that what I felt was wrong. I wanted to be right, I wanted that man to burn in hell and I wanted to be the one to send him there. I wanted vindication and retribution but I knew, I _knew_ that all of those desires were wrong. Tears burned in the back of my eyes, and for the first time in my life I couldn't let them fall. Tears are for children, and I wasn't a child anymore. At least, I didn't feel like one. I felt like I had aged a hundred years, even died a couple times. I breathed heavily through my nose and looked up to the ceiling, anything to fight the tears from spilling over.

Finally I choked out, "So what do I do?"

I was still not looking at him, but I could tell he was pleased that I finally talked.

"That anger- use it. Let it fuel you to make a change. And then maybe one day, when the time is right, you can help other kids like yourself-"

"What do I do _now_?" I demanded, in real danger of a mental break down, a few tears already gliding down my cheeks and I silently cursed myself.

"Now?" he repeated and then he thought. He spent a long time thinking, then he finally said, "You survive."

I turned my head to him slowly, looking into his eyes. I could tell right away that they were sincere, that he cared for me. His eyes were so kind. The only one who had ever looked at me like that before was my own father, and he would never look at me like that again.

The two of us said nothing; we just looked at each other, until out of the blue, above office noises and frivolous murmurs we heard a little boy's voice.

"Dad?" he said. I turned and across the room I saw a little white boy, about my age, short brown hair, dark purple winter coat (?) and a red scarf. His eyes were elated, and I had an intuitive feeling that he didn't get to see his dad much. There was a woman standing behind him, Lori, although I don't remember what she was wearing really. I just remember she looked so happy to see her son happy. He ran and hugged Rick, who was on his feet now, embracing his son the way father's do.

"Did you know it was your birthday?" I remember him saying, Rick laughed.

"Ya' know, must've slipped my mind. Good thing I have you to remind me." He humored, messing up his sons hair.

"We got you something!" he said, so unfathomably excited. Lori walked over and handed Rick a box.

"Happy birthday." She said quietly, he took it reluctantly, there was something strange about their relationship I could tell, I was just too young to know what it was. Rick looked down at the gift and tried to find something to say, but all that came out was "Thank you." To which his wife nodded in response.

"Open it dad! Open it!" Carl was jumping up and down. "Open it!"

Rick smiled at his son, the back at the box and began twirling it in his hands. Then he looked back at me and the elation gives way to sympathy. I didn't want to be pitied. That was one thing that I didn't want, I didn't want any of this. So I stood up unwrapping the borrowed blanket from my shoulders and holding it out to Sheriff Grimes.

"You can take it." I said in the most adult voice possible, but I sounded more like an injured kitten. "I don't need it anymore."

He took it slowly in obvious confusion. I replaced the warmth of the blanket with my insufficient arms.

"Um Sheriff, sorry- can you tell me how to get home? I'm cold and I have nowhere else to go…"

He and Lori exchanged looks.

"Carl, Lori, this is Kimana Kamish." He said my name so white it was the first time that it actually bothered me.

"Kimmy." I corrected, "Nice to meet you."

It was the first time I had ever shortened my name. Most babies have nick names, not me. My parents loved my name, and they always- always- used the full thing. That's why this had filled me with so much guilt at the time. I've since grown used to it.

"Kimmy." Rick fixed. Carl stepped forward.

"Why can't you go home?" he asked, tears welled in my eyes again.

"Carl why don't you go say hi to Shane, eh? I know he'd wanna see you." Rick says. Carl looked from his father to me and undid his red scarf, rewrapping it around my neck.

"There. That should keep you warm." He said. I gasped, staring at him in awe. It was around this time that I had come up with the idea that everyone around me was evil, but not him. Not Rick. They showed me that there is still good in some people. And that was it, that broke the dam in my eyes. Giant warm tears poured down my widened eyes.

"I…" I said "I think so."

And then Rick stepped forward as well.

"Kiman- Kimmy" he starts, "How would you like to come stay with us?"

I wasn't expecting this, but I guess I might have been hoping a little. I looked between Rick and Lori, who seemed annoyed that he had even asked without consulting her. Her reaction made m reluctant.

"I…I don't know." I said timidly.

"Why not?" Carl asked enthusiastically before grabbing my hand. "C'mon. Let's go home."

I choke on the word. _Home._ And tears fall freely now.

"Home…okay." I agreed.

Of course there's a lot more history but if I spend too much time reflecting on the past then I'll never be able to move toward the future. But Rick's advice I still carry with me today, Carl's kindness kept me from absolving myself into hate. These people saved me, and that I will never not reflect on.


	3. Author's Note

**Hi guys! So this is my first TWD fanfic- jeez it's been so long since I've worked on one. Well, I'll be the first to admit I have a bad history with not finishing my stories, but this one is gonna be different. I know because I organized it differently, like episodes. This part will be maybe about five chapters and the we'll move on the next part and the next, it's easier to stay interested that way. So anyway I'm SUPER excited to be finally writing this- it's been in my imagination for months now, this is my first attempt at putting it in words. So anyway, I hope you all like it. I really appreciate feedback, it kinda helps me keep writing. Also this is a better summary for the whole story:**

 **The group is adjusting to their new home in Alexandria. Carl is being nice to Kimmy again after icing her out for years following his mother's death. At first she's ecstatic to have a relationship with her adopted brother again, but when she thinks that she may be misreading a few of his acts of kindness she becomes confused about her feelings for him, they may not be just familial affection after all. Things become even more complicated when she learns of his relationship with Enid. Also the group takes a prisoner.**

 **So that's about all you need to know at this point, hope you like it!**

 **XOXO Freeangels**


End file.
